Untrue
by The Clock Strikes Thirteen
Summary: "Lily's gaze lifted from the baby named Aurora in her arms to the man clad in black. "Forgive me, I assumed she was yours. You watch her with a father's eyes." The man seemed slightly confused, but hardly surprised. "And you would know what that looks like?" He asked, giving Lily pause. "No. I hardly knew my father. You see the little one as I wish he had seen me." Diaval/OC.
1. Chapter One: With a Lily in Your Hand

_**Untrue**_

_**Chapter One: With a Lily in Your Hand**_

The sun was too bright, the grass too green. Every flower bloomed when she wished they would choke on the water they drank. The world was happy, and she was not. There was no solace found in the white lilies she tossed at her feet, her chest tightening when they came to rest against two short stone pillars in haphazard piles.

Lily was as pale as her namesake, not with rage, as she had been a day earlier, but with grief.

_They had to die in spring. _She thought to herself, _If only to pain me further. _The remaining bouquet of funeral flowers were crushed in her suddenly tight grip. She wanted to dig up the earth again, to see if either of them were still breathing.

Lily thought she was mistaken when she returned home with her flower basket filled with medicinal herbs to find them dead. Several shouts and tears shed later, she realized that she was not.

The pain was dull, and sawed at her innards as she did bread with a dull knife. Her heart was stale, it seemed, because it could not make a cut clean enough for her to die as well.

She resisted the urge to sit down in the fresh earth and dirty the only black dress she owned, but soon gave into it. While the world around her was smiling, Lily felt the time-honored tradition of mourning settle on her shoulders like a funeral shroud.

It made her quite near sick, but she did not feel the need to wretch. Everything inside of her that could be rid of was already gone. For good or ill, Lily was empty.

"Michael." She said, more to herself than the grave marker with his name carved into it. She had never been a very skilled stone-smith, and had always preferred carpentry. Making their coffins had been no trouble.

She put her hand to the dirt. It was soft underneath her pale hands, and crumbled as she dragged her nails through it, imbedding it deep under her nails.

"Watch over Jane, please." Lily finally croaked, dropping the few flowers still clasped in hand at the base of the second marker. "A-and," Her eyes stung, but nothing came from them. No tears poured down her cheeks as they had when she found her husband and daughter dead. "Wait for me."

With that, Lily stood, brushing off her knees and leaving the clearing that was just far enough from her now empty home. She could not see them from her window, and did not want to.

As she unlatched the door, letting the door swing open of its own accord, Lily nearly lost her footing on the steps leading up to it. She fell to one knee, not bothering to gasp at the pain that laced through it. She simply stood up again, as she had from the earth, her face as expressionless as she could manage.

Loneliness was a constant ache in her ears. Even when her baby and husband were alive, if not quite unwell, the sounds of them in pain often motivated Lily to try harder, to go a little further to the Moor and find more helpful herbs.

All of her searching, all of her sleepless nights had been in vain, and the deepest reminder of that was the deafening silence.

Lily did not know what do with herself as she shrugged off her thin shawl and let it drop near the door. She heard the fence just outside creaking in the gentle breeze, reminding her that she would have to fix it.

Her legs did not want to do what she told them to, it seemed, as she instead approached her kettle and put on a pot of tea. The gurgling noise of the water boiling did not calm her as it had many sleepless nights during the first year of her new life as a mother.

Jane was a happy baby, quite pretty with a wide smile. However, she did not rest easily, and Lily often found herself patting Michael's arm in reassurance before rising to tend to her child. Sitting alone in the kitchen with her daughter, battling tears of exhaustion, Lily would turn to the little brass kettle and to the sounds it made for comfort.

The gurgling noise reminded her of what Jane used to 'say' when you put her anywhere near the outdoors. She would nearly screech with excitement, clapping her chubby hands and struggling to find the right expression for her joy.

She and Michael would smile at their child, perhaps the greatest adventure either of them had ever been on. Jane was a symbol of their unity, of their love. She would outlive them, there was no doubt in Lily's mind at the time. She would have children of her own, and so it would go on, and Lily would never fear death because a piece of her would remain.

Despite the distance between them, Lily had never felt closer to her mother. She who toiled away under the king's boot, scrubbing and cleaning and dreaming. Lily wondered if her mother felt the same way for her, the same special brand of hope when she saw her daughter run to her, face bright. Lily supposed so, although she was uncertain if that hope would have died in the many years they had been apart.

As for her father, Lily couldn't say either, she had not seen him since her tenth birthday. He was born in a stable, or at least mother said so, and the scullery maid said that his fondest wish was to die on horseback. A merchant by trade, it was a cold day in summer if Lily were to catch sight of him riding through the kingdom's gates.

He brought her things, little gems of no value or perhaps a doll, but what he did bring that had worth was her mother's smile.

It was like the rising sun, so full of joy and elation that it had to be rare, or else it was forced. Lily nearly lived for that smile as a child, and that same passion thrived into her teenage years when the visits from her father slowed to a halt.

Her mother said that he did not love them anymore, that he had found someone new, and that Lily was to have a half-sister. She did not know how to feel about that besides what emotions her mother showed. Rage fueled her tenth year, followed by prolonged periods of crippling sadness.

Lily did not know why she cried when her mother did, when she beat the walls with her fists in blind anger shortly after her mother retired to her room with bruised knuckles. She did not know her father, she did not love him. Her mother did, however, as much s Lily loved her, and her pain was her daughter's pain.

When she was just past nineteen, Lily was certain she had destroyed all chances of seeing her mother smile again when she gathered enough courage to tell her that she was leaving home to get married.

While Lily's passion did not lie in horses, it still flourished in her love of plants and trees. Specifically what she could make from the wood they so generously gave. Lily kept a knife at her hip and a small block of wood nearby should she get he urge to carve something.

She met Michael in the valley outside the gates while collecting herbs to sell. She didn't say a word to her mother for seven months until he had asked her to leave for the woods with him.

Michael too loved nature and what beauty could be wrought from it, as most humans did. He was kind and quiet sort of intelligent, preferring to silently revel in his superior knowledge of things a farmer's boy should not.

Lily's mother had been the closest thing to grief-stricken that the young woman had ever seen. She turned red and cried for over an hour in her room while Lily packed, tears pricking at her eyes.

Her mother never asked her to stay, however nor did she force her from the home. She merely said that she would be waiting. Lily did not know if she was being malicious in saying so, as her mother's eyes had grown quite cold.

Either way, sarcastic or not, Lily left, and thus began her new life.

The whistling of her kettle threatened to give the woman another strand of white hair to fret over, as she jolted from her place at the kitchen counter to reach for a mug. The tea itself, once the blend was added, tasted far more bitter than Lilly remembered, as if there truly was no way to console her.

Lost in thought again, she barely noticed the sound of fluttering wings as a cloud brushed over the sun, temporarily shading the glade where her home was built.

Lily turned towards her window as she caught sight of something black landing in the square space. It stood out against the homey, brown shutters and the cream of the wallpaper, whatever it was, prompting her to investigate.

Closer inspection found the mass to be a raven of medium size. Its feathers were an inky black, deeper and darker than the dress Lily wore. It spread its lovely wings, making her take a step back from the creature.

She felt a strange sort of peace that tea could not give when she laid eyes on it. The brightness of the world around her clashed so horribly with her own fresh misery. Ravens' were black, they were dark, they were what Lily yearned to see.

Lily could not be lonely if she knew that others around her were as well. If the trees began to die and the sky grew as dark as it did over the Moors, perhaps then she could be calm, she could be happy once again.

She was not the sort to revel in misery as her husband did his own hidden knowledge, but to know that pain is shared, even by those who did not know its cause, was a comforting thought.

In light of the circumstances, lily did not chase the raven away. She held out her hand, taking a step closer. It shied away, ducking its beautiful head and shifting on its feet. Lily hushed the bird as she moved nearer as it began to crow.

"Keep still." She muttered, too lost in thought to be surprised when the bird obliged. "I won't harm you." Lily added as an after thought before her fingertips brushed the dark feathers on the crown of its head.

It hurt to do so, but Lily offered the bird a little smile.

"Do you know how sad I am?" She asked it through the forced upturned corners of her mouth. The bird cocked its head to the side. "Sad enough to wish the world was as dark as you." Lily answered him, letting her hand fall to her side, turning away.

Lily did not notice the raven shuffle a bit again, as if it was offended. She did not want to care about anything save her misery, and so she did not.

She did not spare the creature a glance as it took flight from her window. Lily did not think of it as it left her alone again. She did not blame it.

_Just a bird_. She thought to herself, but that wasn't right. _Not a bird, a raven_. She corrected. A raven who now carried her pain on its wings, and had every intention of returning.


	2. Chapter Two: I Hide Myself

_**Chapter Two: I Hide Myself**_

No matter how much Lily wished for the world to match the chasm of pain that carved itself in her chest, she knew that such a thing would never come to pass. In her dreams, however, the rage and guilt took hold of her in a way that she would not trade with anyone else.

Even her most hated enemy did not deserve the nightmares that visited her as she lay alone in her bed for the first, agonizing night after the funeral. The sound was like her kettle whistling late in to the night, accompanied by her Jane crying as loud as it seemed she could.

What she saw was her loved ones suffering while she toiled away, trying to save them but ceasing to near the end, falling into the apathy that consumed her when they left Lily in the woods.

There was so much sadness, so little hope as Lily walked through the death of her family, the death of what could have been an ending.

More than once, Lily was woken by the sound of her baby screaming into the night as she had before the winter came on frozen winds. Habit would dictate her next action, nearly forcing Lily to reached her arm to the side, looking for her husband's shoulder to reassure him that she would take care of Jane.

Every time, her arm met with nothing but air.

Lily had not cried since she discovered their bodies, but in the dark of the night, she did again and again until her head pounded and her breath was shaking with sobs.

She did not know what to do with herself when morning came, the bright sun blocking out all rational thought as she continued to crush roots and carve little blocks of wood as if the ones she loved were still dying in the other room and as if she was still a child.

When Lily was a little girl, her mother would not let her leave the house should a drop of rain dare wet the ground. While her mother left her to her own devices, Lily carved out beautiful shapes and patterns into the legs of the chairs, onto the mantle, and even into the plates.

Her older self did not allow a cup to be placed in the pantry unless it was carved; beautiful wooden vines and forest creatures winding around the dishware in ways that both captured and later held the attention.

Lily loved to carve, to see the pile of shavings grow at her feet as she worked. The love she put into creating something beautiful from the life that was once a tree fueled her passion. It was late into the night, after another nightmare, that she picked up a block of wood and a knife, hoping that sleep would find her.

She set her work down when she heard a tapping on the window. Spring winds had a bitter touch to them as of late, and she had tightly sealed the shutters before going to bed. Lily stood, walking towards her kitchen window and opening it.

Lily, again came face-to-face with a raven, as she had a few days prior. The ashy thing looked as all ravens' did, but the woman liked to think it was the very same one.

"Will I have to give you a name if you keep coming to visit me?" She asked softly, extended her hand again to touch the feathers of its head. It shied away again, fluttering its wings slightly, almost in distaste. Lily smiled at the creature, grateful for the distraction it brought.

She wondered why the bird would have come back to the now drab little home. There was not much to see and what little food she had was hardly suitable for birds.

"Is there something you would like?" She asked, moving from the window a bit, its beady eyes followed her. "Perhaps a drink of water?" Lily took a cup from the shelf, dipping it into her water bucket. Michael had lost the ladle some time ago, and hadn't had the chance to make a new one.

With verbal consent from the beautiful raven in the form of a quiet crow, Lily turned from the window and sat down again at the kitchen table, placing the water cup on a book.

"Well, come here." She coaxed, patting the flat of the tabletop lightly. "And don't even think about sticking your beak into my water bucket. Goodness knows where it's been..." She turned at the sound feathers ruffling in offense, and she tilted her head to the side.

Lily motioned for the raven to come and sit with her again, this time remaining silent. It seemed to nod before flying into the room, content in the knowledge that she would not do it harm.

She looked back to her little block of wood. She'd scraped the sides down to the smoothness of a stone, but had sacrificed unbandaged hands in the name of its perfection.

The raven seemed to notice as well when she offered him the cup of water, and after drinking from it, the creature looked pointedly to her bandaged fingers. Lily shrugged moving to pet its head.

"I like to carve things like this," she began, showing him the block. "And like this." Certain it was finished with the water, she lifted the cup so that it could see the pattern of vines and leaves engraved there. "But they leave splinters in my fingers." She put the cup down and folded her hands in her lap.

Her new friend did not seem to think that was the end of the story, and took a few steps closer to her, talons clicking on the table.

"There are splinters of other things here too, bird." Lily said. "Splinters of memories, like ghosts in the night." She looked out the kitchen window before turning back to the raven. "But they're not in my hands, they're in my heart."

She stood, nearly upsetting the cup and making it fall to the ground. She brushed by the creature and the work she had been doing before it came to visit and walked towards the door. Her shawl hung where it had a few days ago, as she had not left the house since.

"Would you like to meet them?" She asked gently, tugging the piece of fabric around her nightgown-clad shoulders. "My ghosts, I mean?" Lily did not wait for a reply, she simply unlatched the door and slipped out into the dark.

She did not know whether to be pleased or upset when she heard the sound of flight behind her as she wove through her garden. With expert hands, she picked a sprig of lavender from the large bush growing near her roses. While she was regretting her decision, she'd invited the raven all the same, and it would be rude to revoke the invitation.

"This way." She said to the raven as it landed on the fence. The cobblestone was cold underneath her bare feet as she reached the gate, unhooking it and letting it fall open. Soft but still slightly frozen earth replaced the paved walkway in her garden as she walked deeper into the forest.

Her eyes were straight ahead, but she could already see the grave markers in the clearing as if she were already standing next the them. Her heart pounded in her chest. She did not want to see them again, or rather, what was left of them.

She turned and locked eyes with the raven's black ones before looking back to the dirt road and walking faster. Lily veered off the beaten path, into the forest. It was dark, but she knew the way, she'd built it after all. Here and there, a lantern was placed for light, but they were burning low.

Twigs snapped under her feet, but she did not stop walking, not even to see if her friend was still following. It felt like a hundred years had passed when the clearing finally came in to view. The two stone pillars were still standing, one smaller than the other. The names carved in them were done so crudely, but by someone who had an inkling of skill.

Lily gasped when the raven flew in to the circle of trees over her head, landing on the stone that read 'Jane'. She wanted to motion for him to get off immediately, but found she could not really see him. Her vision was blurring badly, and it was not until she felt a wetness on her cheek did she realize she was crying.

There was no shortage of tears, Lily found, as her shoulders shook from the force of her sobs. She did not fall, however. No, this time she remained standing, her head tilted slightly downward. Her light brown hair fell into her eyes, and she did not see the raven take off, she only felt it snatch the lavender from her hand.

She whipped around, watching it fly out of the clearing. Her face was hot, not from her tears but with anger as she gave a shout and chased after it. The bird was fast, but so was she as she followed him over logs and under branches.

Lily did not know why she was as angry with the raven as she was, but could not stop herself from running. It felt good to feel something other than crushing apathy. She never noticed that the bird did not fly as fast as it could have, and slowed when ever she did.

Lily did not know how long she followed the raven, only that her lungs and legs were aching for rest when the forest ended for a second time, and she found herself in another clearing.

This one could have been home with the cosy cottage situated in the very center of it, with a blooming garden all around. It even had a wailing baby.

Her eyes widened as Lily forgot about the bird and her flowers, and instead approached the window. Just underneath it was a little one no bigger than Jane had been. Perhaps a year and half old, she was growing too big for the crib she lay in.

It made Lily's heart twist in her chest as she watched the raven fly in to the open window and drop the lavender into the baby's lap. The little thing made a noise of surprise, and for a moment, the forest was silent as she inspected the new gift she'd been given. Lily had to smile as the baby tried to put it in her mouth. Lily tutted and gently pulled the baby's hands away from her mouth. This confirmed her earlier suspicion that the poor thing was quite hungry.

"And you want me to do something about this?" Lily asked, looking to the raven. It cocked its head to the side, almost as if saying yes. "Well, I can't do anything tonight. I'll return in the morning." The woman leaned in closer to the window as the baby grabbed her finger in her tight little grip.

Lily didn't seem to mind, she just smoothed out the infant's blanket, turning her head slightly when she realized that there was a name stitched into the hem.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Lilly began, "Aurora."

* * *

_**It just now occurred to me how rarely I do authors notes. Well, I guess I'd better just introduce what the hell I'm doing, as I'm not fully certain. **_

_**I suppose I just wanted to thank all the people for the response I got, and how many people are alerting this story! I hope I don't disappoint. I'm going to attempt to follow the movie, but without all the time warps. I wanted to focus on Aurora's life with the faeries, and how odd it is that they disguised themselves when they presumably don't actually interact with any other human beings...**_

_**Anyway, all that aside, I want to make something unique and quality for you guys to read, so critique all you like! I'll see you next chapter!**_


	3. Chapter Three: The Stolen Child

_**Chapter Three: The Stolen Child**_

Lily didn't know if the sun was commenting on her slightly enthusiastic attitude by hiding completely, but she liked to think it was. Nevertheless, she did not let it dim her spirit as she walked through the forest, basket in hand.

Her hood had fallen back onto her shoulders after a strong gust of wind sent the spring blossoms flying into the air. She hadn't bothered to pull it back over her head, it was not raining yet. Lily's basket was rather heavy, and it was a challenge to keep it still. Perhaps an entire jar of milk was far too much to bring to whomever lived in the cottage not far from hers, but with how hungry Aurora sounded, she was certain it would be enough.

Gladys, her cow, was a fickle creature. She never liked Lily all that much, and when the woman went out to feed her that morning, it became even more obvious. The widow had ignored the creature for a day or two, making whatever hatred the animal already had for her multiply by tenfold. Michael would not have forgotten about her, he was her best friend in every way.

Lily remembered when he brought her through the gate. Gladys was so small that he had to fashion a special bell collar to fir around her neck. His wife had hardly been pleased, as she would rather have had an extension to her own house as opposed to the barn. Michael would hear none of it, and so Lily simply rolled her eyes and said that she wouldn't care for it.

Of course, Michael had said the same thing about the chicken Lily had found wandering around the woods and clucking at all hours of the night. Her husband had been certain that Marigold would peck out his eyes after nearly biting his finger. Lily just smiled and pet her head like she was a lazy cat.

Lily's shin still hurt where Gladys kicked her, and walking did not help. Still, step after step she took until she was quite near the cottage she'd seen the night before.

After the raven had led her there, Lily became determined to get involved in how her mother was raising her. It seemed almost negligent how she'd been left to cry in a crib that was almost too small for her. Lily would have words with whomever responsible.

The bird led her back to her house before disappearing into the night. Lily was far too exhausted to dream of anything that night, thank goodness, but still woke just before dawn as she always had.

Donning her best dress, she'd left the house at a respectable hour and attempted to retrace her steps. It was not as difficult as she would have guessed, and soon found the trail of bare footprints she had made the night before.

She felt a little bit free, walking through the woods with a purpose again. The feeling of displacement was constant in her own home, as Lily struggled to find something to occupy herself with.

It was not long before the little house with the thatched roof came in to view. It was still as homey and nice as it had been before, but Lily noticed the little things that she had missed in the dark. There were slight cracks in the plaster walls, the window panes were a bit dusty, and the hay that covered the roof looked as if someone lay it in a hurry.

A moment passed as Lily stood outside the gate, trying to put her finger on what was odd about the place. It did not seem more than a year old, but she had never seen it before. The state of slight disrepair caused by overall sloppiness had her wondering who could have been in such a rush to build the place.

_They do have a child, however._ She reminded herself. _And this spring is likely to be chilly._ After a cold snap like the one that they had that winter, it was unlikely for the summer to be hot as it usually was. The world was still frozen under a layer of colour and occasionally blue sky.

Lily undid the lock on the gate, and marvelled at the craftsmanship. She did not know who lived here, and how they managed to know how to work iron after the king had sent word for all able smiths to work in at the castle forge.

Their garden was nothing like Lily's. It was impractical, merely there to look pretty. She supposed that was alright, but like that the flowers she grew had purpose as well as beauty. In a corner of the mystery garden were planted a few choice vegetables, but other than that, only lilacs and peonies bloomed.

Lily picked up the knocker, rapping on the door twice before taking a step back. She heard the sound of no less than three people bustling about inside, and could have sworn she saw the drawn curtains part for a moment before they fell back to where they were.

After a few minutes, the door opened. Behind it was the strangest assortment of women Lily had ever seen. The one to the far left was clad almost exclusively in blue, and seemed to have a touch of it in her hair as well. The woman to the right was sporting a garishly bright yellow dress with corkscrew blonde curls to match. Finally, the lady who was peering at Lily as if she was a dangerous curio had her brown hair pinned back under a pink cap that matched her bodice and skirt.

When she spoke, her voice was clipped, her hands braced against either side of the door as if attempting to hide the house from their visitor.

"How can I help you?" The pink woman asked. Lily smiled brightly, and the action seemed to calm the one wearing blue.

"Hello," she began. "I live nearby." She held out her hand, which the oldest-looking woman cautiously shook. "My name is Lily."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." The blonde piped up, offering her hand as well, which Lily grasped.

The lady in the middle seemed to glare at her and her introduction, before putting on a pleasant face and turning to Lily.

"My name is Flora. These are my sisters, Fauna," she motioned to the yellow woman, "and Merryweather." Lily inclined her head to the woman in blue, who returned the gesture.

"I came by here last night," Lily said, "and I couldn't help but hear your baby. She seemed a bit upset." Fauna sighed.

"She never stops crying." She replied, almost appearing annoyed.

"Yes, well, I thought as a house warming gift, I would bring you something for her from my farm." Lily reached into her basket, taking out the jar of milk. She left the ratty doll in the bottom of the basket, hidden under the cloth.

It had belonged to Jane. Her death had been recent, but Lily thought that tucking her doll into the basket at the last possible moment would fool herself into thinking that she was healing. She was wrong. The moment her fingers brushed the yarn on the doll's head, her heart froze. Lily drew her hand away, placing it at her side. She could not give up even the smallest piece of her Jane, not yet.

"How generous." Flora commented, taking the jar and giving it to Merryweather.

"I was beginning to think the carrots weren't quite right for babies anyway." Fauna added in, earning a surprised look from Lily.

"I take it that you're novices at raising a child?" Lily asked, her tone innocent. The question itself, however, had a bit of malice to the underside. If they did not know what they were doing, they should have sought help prior to this.

Flora huffed while Fauna tilted her head to the side as if in agreement. "Well..." She began before her sister cut her off.

"We have cared for the child for a year thus far, I believe we're perfectly capable." Flora said to Lily in a tone that was far more stressed.

_A year? _Lily thought. _Caring for Michael and Jane took time, but I'm quite surprised I did not notice them. _

"I understand. I meant no disrespect, only that I have experience with children and would be more than happy to help-" Lily stopped when the blonde, whom she was beginning to think was a bit daft, cut her off.

"Oh, would you?" She asked, making Lily blink. "We've been yearning for a day of rest since..." She trailed off, "since..." Merryweather gave her a look before touching her arm.

"For quite some time, my dear." The second-oldest said, more to her sister than to their guest.

"Yes, that's it." Fauna agreed, looking to Flora. "Could we please let her watch the baby?" She asked. Flora still did not seem keen on the idea, but the sound of weeping as Aurora woke in the next room made her clamp her mouth shut, and prevent her from declining again.

"Very well, Lily. My sisters and I thank you. Should you need us for anything at all, we'll be nearby." Flora smiled in a way that made Lily think she did not trust her, but was at her wits end.

"We should feed her first." Fauna piped up, making Merryweather nod in agreement. She held up the jar of milk and went back into the house. After a minute, she came back, holding a pot in one hand and a lit match in another.

"Lily, dear, do you happen to know how hot the stove must be to heat milk properly?" The young woman sighed and followed Merryweather in to the house.

* * *

"You're more than adequate at caring for the little beastie," The horned faerie said from red lips. She was speaking to a man, slightly shorter than herself with slick, dark hair and strange scars on his neck, temple and left hand. "Why would you need _her_?" Her acidic green eyes moved from the man to the woman sitting a bit away from the cottage on a blanket.

In front of her was the 'beastie' in question; a squirming baby who laughed and smiled more than any child her caregiver had ever seen. It was almost like magic how happy the little girl was, with her big blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

"She's outgrowing her crib." The man said after a moment, looking to the infant as well. "I can't do anything about that. She can." He thought about the house the woman lived in, and how dark it was. He'd never seen such sadness freely shown to another creature. "They trust her, she'll care for her by day, and I'll make sure she's fine at night."

The faerie lifted a thin eyebrow, tilting her head a fraction. The sight before her was a strange one, as the longer she looked, the more Maleficent thought she was watching a mother and daughter.

"And if she proves to be equally incompetent?" She asked, secretly wondering why the baby's well-being mattered as much to her as it did.

"She won't be. She's good, lonely too." The man added at the end. The faerie had no desire to know how he knew that, I truly was none of her business. After another few minutes of careful observation, Maleficent told herself that the sight was growing dull.

"There must be something else to stare at." She mused, turning away from Lily and Aurora. The man made a move to follow her, but she held up her hand. "No. Stay and watch. Act out if you must, should you be proven wrong." With that, she retreated into the forest, towards the Moors.

The man wondered why she hadn't bothered to change him back to the form he very much preferred, but did not miss the tenseness in her shoulders as she walked away.

Maleficent, whether she knew it or not, was jealous of the widow.

* * *

**_I don't know, I'm not certain I like this chapter that much. Might take it down if I start thinking it needs a redo. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. _**

**_On a completely unrelated and yet related note, each chapter is the name of a composition by Eric Whitacre. I pick one that fits the tone of the chapter and it gets written to it, so I highly recommend you look them up if you fancy a little musical accompaniment!_**

**_That's all for now, friends. Thank you for the response!_**


	4. Chapter Four: Little Birds

_**Chapter Four: Little Birds**_

"Now, little one, this is an azalea." Lily said, holding the snow-tipped bud between her fingers. The scent was clean and fresh, a feat that took the widow many years to achieve in her own garden when she lived with her mother.

In fact, everything about the surrounding garden was almost too perfect to be true. The snowdrops were stark-white, with no browning buds, the roses' thorns were few and far between, it went on and on, making Lily feel a bit uncomfortable.

One of the reasons she felt quite at home in the speck of earth she'd reserved for growing various flowers, herbs and vegetables was its imperfections. The garden that surrounded her and the baby was as perfect as could be. It felt strange to her, as if she herself was out of place.

Aurora didn't seem to mind however, and crawled around, smiling and giggling. It was a welcome change from all the crying, and the three women who took care of her seemed to agree.

They had not invited her to play cards with them, but Lily didn't mind. She didn't like any of them as it was anyway, and their shrill voices put enough pain in her head at a distance.

"Like listening to three cats howl at the moon." Lily mumbled, smiling at bit. Despite everything her husband had tried, he could never make her laugh as much a she could herself. While she was aware of how foolish that was, it seemed that only she had the same special brand of humor that differs with everyone.

The noise the sisters were making turned from annoying to grating the louder they got, as each one declared the other was cheating for all to hear. Lily covered her ears, muttering empty threats. The noise reached a peak, and the woman finally had enough.

"Come, little one." Lily said, scooping the baby up and walking towards the woods. "I haven't the faintest idea how you've managed thus far." She added, walking in to the trees. Briefly, Lily wondered if she should tell the three where she was going. One look over her shoulder put the thought out of her mind. Going near that level of dispute would only feed her headache.

Lily walked towards the green of the woods, watching for poison ivy or other unintentionally malicious plants. The very last thing she wanted was to return home with a case of poison oak when she'd just about depleted her jar of bloodroot the previous winter. While the dried little buds were not that difficult to find in the middle of the forest, Lily doubted it would be much fun for Aurora.

Instead, she sought out a stream. The sun was hot that day, and she remember how much Jane adored dipping her feet into cool water. Lily remembered how her daughter would nearly shriek with laughter, and wondered if Aurora would do the same.

The baby in her arms was very happy, no one could deny that. It was different from how happy Jane used to be, as the first four months of her life was spent with her wailing almost constantly. Lily did not know the source of her infant's colic, but it disappeared shortly after, and what could only be described at the light of Lily's life emerged.

Deeper into the forest she ventured, listening and looking for the perfect body of water. She wondered if any truffles grew beneath trees this close to the Moors. While considered a delicacy in the kingdom, they were hardly rare. Lily had never been partial to the taste, but did enjoy taking her sow out to hunt for them during the day when she was small.

This forest was different, however. Something about it was altered, like someone was trying to protect it. It gave Lily chills, but she did not want to dwell on it. At least it looked beautiful; the trees were healthy and bright splotches of flowers dotted the soft ground.

No matter how lovely, the feeling of being watched soon settled around Lily like a cloak. It was stifling, and she looked around trying to snuff out the source. For the most part, she was unsuccessful, until she turned sharply and caught a flash of black against the green of the leaves.

Any ounce of sense that Lily had was crushed under her heeled boot when she took a step in the direction the shadow went. Try as she might, and goodness how she did try, she couldn't force herself to turn back towards the cottage and leave the wood.

So she took a step, and another, and then another until she was walking at a brisk pace, going deeper into the forest. Lily wondered if she was being silly, putting a baby at risk, but her own curiosity for something other than crushing sadness had just about consumed her by then.

"Is anyone there?" She asked when the feeling of being watched receded somewhat. She felt a bit less on edge, but wanted to know where it was coming from. A rustling noise coming from the leaves nearby answered her.

* * *

Diaval didn't fancy a confrontation, but there was only so much he could do when Maleficent seemed to forget to change him back. Walking seemed like a tedious chore to him, and it became painfully obvious early on that he'd taken flying for granted. Not that he minded running all that much, despite the fact it had certainly taken him a while to get used to it.

For now, he kept up the pace, flying as humans did through the forest on black-clad legs. He knew the widow and the little one had caught sight of him, but did not think she was foolish enough to chase after him. Horror stories were told in the kingdom of Men, he'd heard them first hand, it intrigued him to see she did not seem to listen to them.

He felt out of place against the green, but then again, so was she. He'd watched her a bit, mostly just little looks in passing as he soared overhead, but the abrupt change in the colour of her wardrobe got his attention. She shifted from whites and yellows to nothing but solid black. He knew why, but not how, or who had passed.

Diaval found out the night prior, and couldn't deny the heavy feeling in his chest as he watched the woman cry. It came as a shock to him later that, until she'd said it to the idiot faeries, he hadn't even known her name.

He knew that she grew flowers, however, and that they weren't just to look pretty. Still, most of them did anyway, but the shapeshifter was perhaps more interested in what she did with them, rather than how she would admire them sometimes.

In his preferred form, he watched her brew tea that she poured into intricately carved cups, only to throw out a few minutes later. He was unsure if she ate, but the way she had taken to sitting around her home for hours on end led him to believe that she was not doing so regularly.

The part of him that Maleficent had changed forever pitied and yet understood her. The raven did not fully understand human emotion, but did not like to see her, or anyone else for that matter, upset.

So he led her to the baby who was quickly outgrowing her crib and went hungry around noon. He wasn't sure why the king would ever have entrusted his daughter to a bunch of half-wits who'd never seen a child, although he suspected it had something to do with them assuring him that they were capable.

They weren't, and the sounds of a baby crying hurt his ears.

Maleficent did not seem to have any confidence in Lily, but he did. Whether or not she was a good mother definitely mattered, but what gave him hope was that she had _been _one, which was more than the faeries could say.

The heavy emphasis in that thought, he remembered, was _been. _A mother, Lily no longer was that. Nor a wife, by the looks of the matching gravestones. The man wondered what happened, the raven wondered too.

He heard her ask a question to the silence somewhere to his left, and as a response, he climbed the nearest tree, taking refuge in the high branches and waiting for her to go away.

She did not.

* * *

"I know you're there." She said in a dull voice, devoid of not interest, but of patience. Lily paused at the sound of rustling again, this time coming from some where above her. She should have been petrified with fear, but instead only felt a slight pounding sensation in her head.

She wondered if this was worth her time, as it was most likely just a squirrel, but Aurora seemed to be enjoying the spring colour. It gave Lily enough confidence to press on. The scanned the sides of trees looking for the small, brown animal she was certain was the cause of the noise, but could a creature so little really give her this overwhelming feeling?

Lily doubted it, and it gave her pause. Whatever was in the forest was not natural, perhaps not harmful in anyway, but still eerie nonetheless. She stopped looking above her head, afraid of what she might find.

Had she looked up, blue eyes would have met deep brown, and her questions would have been completely answered. She did not, however, and whatever was watching her breathed a sigh of relief.

"Very well." She said after a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Good day for now, creature." Lily finished, holding Aurora a bit tighter and moving to exit the forest. She did not look behind her.

When she was gone, the man in black dropped from the tree branches, brushing off his shoulders and running a hand through his hair. He decided he rather liked the widow. She was sad, but curious. He knew Lily would heal, and if she would let him, he wanted to help her do so.

* * *

_**This chapter's a fair bit shorter than the others, but I'm running on some serious creativity and am otherwise unsure how long it will last! Thanks to all the people alerting this story, it really warms my heart. A little shout out to my nine-ish followers who keep me updating!**_

_**I hate how I have to write the three faeries to keep them in canon, but oh well. I chose to use the names from the Disney movie as their human counterpart names, as I was a bit miffed that they changed them. **_

_**Now that's done, would you kindly review?**_


	5. Chapter Five: Glow

_**Chapter Five: Glow**_

Lily sat in her favorite chair in her kitchen that night as she had since her husband and daughter passed. Try as she might to sleep when everything she ever been taught dictated her to, she simply couldn't keep her eyes closed.

The cup in her hand was hot, but at least the contents managed to avoid being poured out. While it became easier to drink the tea she brewed as a nightly ritual, Lily still refrained from doing anything else.

Eating became unbearable, even when it was her favorite food she set down in front of her. The way it smelled, the texture, it all made her sick. Dark circles were worrying away under her eyes, and while she could honestly say that she wasn't hungry, her stomach had begun to cave in just a bit.

Lily was wasting away, all in front of Diaval's eyes.

He cared about her well-being, about how she did not let her sadness consume her completely. She'd had a daughter, one named Jane who she still loved with all her heart. Diaval was a bird, he was not stupid. Her family was her life, and now it was gone.

So he led her to Aurora, and let her share the burden of raising a child again. It had been two days since he had done so, and her state had not deteriorated further. That did not mean that Lily was healing, it simply meant she was not dying as well.

Lily would never admit it to anyone, but she often wondered how the flowers in her garden would look on her grave. The marker would be between her husband's and daughter's, all she had left to do was dig it.

Sometimes, when one looked into the abyss, the abyss looked back. Aurora was the unknown, Lilly found. She who looked so like her Jane and yet, sadly, was not.

Her purpose had not been found at the cottage so close to her, the one shrouded in haphazard mystery. Instead, Lilly gained a replacement, and it made her sick. Her Jane was dead. At barely a year old she had succumbed to a fever that did not have the good taste to kill her mother as well.

Aurora was _not _her daughter, but sitting with her and watching her smile made her wonder if she could be. The longer she looked at her, the longer she looked back, and the line between Aurora and Jane grew thinner.

Lily felt selfish, cruel even, to put a new face on her daughter and pretend they were the same. Aurora did not deserve that either. Lily was tainted with memories of a love that was snuffed out before it had the chance. Aurora deserved a mother who had never been one, who would love her because she did, not because she was a reminder.

That did not stop Lily from wanting to see her again, however. In the cold of her kitchen with only the hot of her tea that was quite close to being discarded, Lily wondered what story she would tell her tomorrow. It was unfair to both of them, but Lily did not care. Jane had made her happy, and now Aurora did too.

"It's cold outside tonight, little bird." She said over her shoulder. The window was open, and she was expecting him. "Come inside and sit with me a while." He did, without hesitation. Perched on the back of her husband's chair, Lily was able to get a better look at him.

The raven was truly a marvel, with inky wings and beautiful eyes. Both shone in the dark when the moonlight spilled through the window and across the floor. He sat proudly, watching Lily with a disappointed contempt. He was cross with her. She was not incorrect. Diaval _was _upset with Lily, and how she was deteriorating.

Maleficent had a pure heart, but her intentions were far from it. Her actions were fueled by revenge, blinded by them. Lily was pure as well, but it was failing. Diaval was tired of flying and whispering, of watching his Aurora grow to accept the faeries as her caregivers. Lily needed a reason, a chance to pull herself from the darkness. Diaval could provide it, he had to.

"I suppose I must think of a name for you now." She mused, taking a sip of her tea. "Perhaps Hadrian or Charon. What say you?" The bird flicked his head, almost in distaste, making Lily giggle. "Such a funny little bird, but still such a kind one." She folded her hands in her lap, staring at them like a curio. "Why do you visit me? Unless you are Death, I'm afraid I am not lively enough for company."

Diaval cocked his head to the side, wishing he had eyebrows to raise. He did not know that Lily wished for death. She seemed to recognize her mistake, but did not seem to care.

"Why so surprised, bird?" She asked. "I have nothing to live for. Aurora is not my daughter. She never will be." Lily paused. "Did you bring her to me? Because you saw I was unhappy?" The thought was not far from her mind, but when the bird seemed to nod, she was taken aback.

As far as Lily was concerned, her little bird was just a dream. He could not speak, he did not understand her, and he certainly didn't care about her well-being. Despite her skepticism, she smiled at him.

"Then you are not death, for you _have _given me joy." She said, her voice quiet. "I wonder what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps it is unkind of me to say, but the women there can be quite dreadful." Lily let out a laugh that was small and distant. "I appreciate your efforts, little bird." She said. "But I worry that they are in vain. I will die, my time is near, and then who else will you lead to that poor child?" Lily did not want to know the answer.

She stood, leaving the table and crossed the room in a few short paces. It _was _cold out that night, but her windows were open wide. Blooming just underneath was her garden, its colors dimmed in the dark. Lily ran a hand over the spiky tops of her Echinaceas', stirring a butterfly from its resting place.

"My flowers are beautiful, aren't they? And they were once so helpful." She sighed. "Winter came in quicker than we'd expected. I'd depleted nearly my entire supply trying to save them by the end of it. Now, it is growing again." She looked over her shoulder at her friend, who did not seem to like what she was speaking about. "I wonder..." she began, "will they still bloom when this house is empty? When I am dead?"

She smirked at the raven, closing the shutters and turning away from the window. She picked up the lit candle in the centre of the table before heading towards the stairs. It was time for her to sleep.

"Who else will care for them?" She asked. "You?" Her laughter pervaded the air again, pricking her ears like pins. "Goodnight, little bird." And she was gone. The light from the candle flickered and died.

* * *

The Moors were shrouded in mystery. Nothing that lived there, save for three faeries, had left since the creature who lived there willed a fence of thorns to grow around it. Nevertheless, there was one other who could come and go freely.

Diaval had never expected to live when he had been caught by a farmer. Thoughts of the meagre life he had flashed in front of his eyes before he felt a terrible pain in his wings, closely followed by a similar one in his legs. Feathers melted away to dusty skin, black eyes were swallowed up by dark irises. He had been saved, but forever changed.

Birds did not think as humans did, and it was difficult to adjust. The thought of revenge, burning hatred and longing were all quite new to him. He could admit that he had not felt them yet, but he watched them flourish in the person who held his life in the palm of her hand.

She was dark and yet the fairest he'd ever seen. Her heart had been cut deeper than any knife could hope to reach, and while she sought to hurt the king in the same way, she had moments of kindness.

"A melancholy little thing, isn't she?" The faerie in question asked him. Lily was watching Aurora play with a butterfly. Diaval doubted the realized how sad she looked.

"She's always like that." He said to her. "At least when nobody's looking." Maleficent gave him an odd look he could not place.

"I am always watching." She replied, and the raven was unsure what she meant by that. "And thus far, she has proven herself." The horned faerie had very little interest in knowing why she glared at the child out of the corner of her eyes every now again, but she did notice it.

"Lily can't stand her." Diaval said.

"Impossible. Part of the curse states that-" Shock was written on her face when her bird cut her off.

"She's fighting it. She misses her baby." At this, Maleficent looked to the young woman again. A smile was one her face now. She seemed to adore little Aurora, as every one else did.

"I couldn't care less what she does. Fight it or don't, nothing will break it. If I were in her place, I would've left some time ago." Diaval shook his head.

"Perhaps, but you've never been a mother." He stated.

"And I have no desire to be. I simply wish for my forest to remain _silent_." She began. "Which is why I've allowed you to care for her in the first place." The raven did not know what to say, and thus, he remained silent.

The two watched the young woman and her changing emotions towards Aurora. The jealousy in her eyes when she smiled at her, the loving disdain she spoke to her with. Lily was falling quite in love with the infant, and it was driving her mad.

"Perhaps she truly does hate her." Maleficent commented.

"More like the idea of being happy with her." Her bird corrected. She raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me, where did you find her?"

"I thought you didn't want to know."

"You're right. Now tell me."

"In a cottage nearby. She spoke to me and I led her here." Diaval said. "She showed me the glade where she buried her husband and daughter. I couldn't leave her to suffer."

"And so now she's here, confused and upset because she does not want to love another." Maleficent finished. "Capable as she may be, Diaval, perhaps it would be best if she returned home.

The last thing on Maleficent's mind was Lily's well-being. That did not mean she was not correct. Lily could now add confusion to her grief. In truth, the faerie did not like thinking that someone could hate an infant for such selfish reasons. She would rather die than speak it, but if the melancholy woman was so unhappy, why did she bother to stay? Why do something that pained you so much?

She entertained the idea that Lily felt duty to her bird, having been led there, but she owed him nothing. What Lily's motive was as much of a mystery as the land she called home, and she did not like that.


End file.
